


Chastity

by Armos



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Brief Face Fucking, Dinner Party, Hannibal buys a statue, Living Statue - Freeform, Love at First Sight, M/M, Oral, Smut, handjob, that statue is will
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-12 16:00:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29762085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Armos/pseuds/Armos
Summary: Hannibal sat in a high backed chair, gazing at the statue in his garden with a critical eye.  He had purchased this high-end piece, enraptured by its beauty and craftsmanship, as he was wont to do with beautiful things.  He had considered its placement ahead of time in his sprawling Baltimore home but now he was reconsidering.  He might call the movers back in to transfer the piece to the opposite wall where the light would hit it at a slanted angle casting the veiled face into more of a subdued lighting and where it would highlight and centerpiece the rose wall rather than placed near the koi pond.  He considered what it might look like in the moonlight, his garden lights softly illuminating it amidst the darkness.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 1
Kudos: 64
Collections: Hannibal flashfic 7





	Chastity

Hannibal sat in a high backed chair, gazing at the statue in his garden with a critical eye. He had purchased this high-end piece, enraptured by its beauty and craftsmanship, as he was wont to do with beautiful things. He had considered its placement ahead of time in his sprawling Baltimore home but now he was reconsidering. He might call the movers back in to transfer the piece to the opposite wall where the light would hit it at a slanted angle casting the veiled face into more of a subdued lighting and where it would highlight and centerpiece the rose wall rather than placed near the koi pond. He considered what it might look like in the moonlight, his garden lights softly illuminating it amidst the darkness.

The marbling was delicate making the soft folds of the carved cloth look wet and silken against the hard form of the statue. The figure underneath was of a man, a beautiful man, with distraught eyes and a nice cupid’s bow resting above his lips. He had a soft nose. Perfect symmetry along his face. The title of the piece was fitting- Veiled Truth- as there was something hidden in those sad distant eyes. Hannibal wished the statue could speak so that he might uncover the secrets it hides.

He stood and left the garden, prepared to start his day. He had three high-priority appointments today with two lesser-priority patients sprinkled in. He eyed his 6’o’clock appointment with mild distaste. Franklyn was harmless though annoying- his attachment to Hannibal was unsavory but the man paid well and he did have a rule against killing his patients. A rule he found tested time and again by this particular man and his soiled tissues left strewn about his furniture. Hannibal was of the mind that one should not cry unless having a particularly moving reason, something bringing that beautiful feeling out to the forefront worth paying attention to, yet Franklyn never disappointed in his need to weep and sob into the surface of Hannibal’s expensive chaise over the most mundane of neroses.

He locked the door to his home and drove the short distance to his office. The day passed much in a blur- though he felt he had aided some of his more darkly inclined patients a step further into becoming their truest forms of self. Francis was excelling, truly. Hannibal was expecting a breakthrough soon, the fight between the man and the Dragon to reach its highest peak in the upcoming months lest something appear and get in the way of hsi development.

Franklyn continued to weep into his upholstery. He made a mental note to call a cleaning crew in to sanitize his office furniture over the weekend.

Hannibal returned home and began his nightly dinner preparations. He had the preferred cuts of a particularly inept pig slow-cooking on a bed of garden vegetables and spices. A relatively simple but quite delicious meal. He decided he would eat in the garden, see if the lower lighting would improve his initial placement decision or solidify the need to move the statue to the other end of the space.

He plated his food with relish, adding a light garnish, before approaching the sliding doors leading to the outside with assured steps. As he slid open the door and took his first step outside he noticed something severely wrong.

His statue was missing. Or, more accurately, the stone pedestal and tablets remained. The figure was gone. From his eyeline in the doorway it did not seem chipped or dismantled, the was no evidence of damaged marble from a thief’s careless hands laying about the pedestal or ground. It was merely…. Gone.

Hannibal felt his jaw tighten in rage and he deftly placed his plate on the patio table near the doorway. He step broadly into the garden and approached the stone slab with a vicious grace only to pause.

He heard a noise to his right, distinctly created by a living creature. Perhaps the stupid creatures attempting to rob him had not been so successful and were attempting to hide in his foliage. He turned on his heel sharply, prepared to lunge and grab and  _ kill _ , when the figure of a man fell through the brush in front of him.

The man, or rather,  _ his statue _ , tripped over its cloth and fell onto its hands and knees in front of him. Hannibal was rendered speechless.

“Oh shit! I hate this fucking stupid-”, the man explaimed, attempting to untangle himself from the depths of the silk wrapped around him. He huffed an irritated breath before finally freeing himself with an exclamation of victory. It was only then he seemed to notice Hannibal’s presence.

“Oh…. Hello. Is this your garden?,” he asked.

Hannibal stared, dumbfounded.

The man scratched his head, embarrassed.

Hannibal continued to stare.

“What? Never seen a statue come to life before? It’s rude to stare,” he man huffed at him, crossing his arms.

Hannibal blinked and leaned forward, pinching the man sharply on the arm.

“Ow!”

“So this is actually happening. How bizarre.”

“That hurt!”

“My apologies. I needed make sure I wasn’t currently hallucinating in my backyard. Care to explain this situation, please?”

The man scratched at his arm, sheepish.

“It’s all a bit hazy in my mind, if I’m being honest. I’ve been a statue for well over a thousand years, I believe. I stopped counting after a while.”

The man glanced around, curious.

“This isn’t the museum. You said it’s your house?”

Hannibal nodded.

The man tsked, disappointed. “Peter was still teaching me English.”

Hannibal’s mind finally caught up to him.

“That won’t be a problem. I can teach you English. More than what I assume an underpaid, undereducated security guard could, at the very least.”

“I liked Peter,” came the soft reply.

Hannibal’s jaw tightened again. He owned this…. Well, he didn’t feel right referring to this creature as “Statue”. Regardless, he owned this ethereal creature, technically, having paid for him and now he was his responsibility. And only his. He may need to kill this Peter.

“What is your name?,” he asked.

The man glanced at him, surprised.

“I’ve gone through many names. Peter called me Will.”

Hannibal softly exhaled through his nose. He was well-aware the statue came with multiple titles beyond “Veiled Truth”, including those of “Chastity” and “Modesty”. Apparently, Peter liked a good joke. Hannibal could appreciate the humor. Peter could live another day.

“Will, then. I am Hannibal Lecter. You may call me Hannibal.”

“Okay.”

Hannibal sat on the grass, across from the man,

“Where did Peter leave off in your lessons?”

“He was teaching me about um fuzzy things,” the man mimed petting, as though a small dog or cat was sitting on his side.

“Animals?”

The man nodded, suddenly shy.

“Yes, I like…. Animals.”

Hannibal nodded and thus the lesson began. They stayed in the garden all night, even though the wet from the grass soaked into Hannibal’s pajama bottoms and it became cold. He considered getting up to retrieve a blanket, something to bundle himself and his less clothed companion in warmth, but couldn’t let himself find a pause point to leave Will alone in the backyard. The man seemed starved for conversation, companionship, even though his body language denoted a closely guarded man. A dog willing to bite a friendly hand if it seemed too close to striking.

Hannibal was in love.

Will eventually returned to his pedestal with an annoyed huff, leaning casually against the pillar. He rearranged the veil over his face with a practiced flick and a roll of the eyes. His face no longer resembled anguish as he turned back to marble, more of a quiet contemplativeness, gazing at the roses across his way. Hannibal decided to leave him there.

He didn’t want anyone else touching Will, even paid workers, and the stone was much too heavy to move on his own. At least, Will seemed content with the view.

Hannibal moved through his morning routine, ignoring the burning of tiredness behind his eyes, and left the house with a minute hesitance.

He mentally catalogued purchases in his mind as his patients lamented their woes to him throughout the day. He would have to buy protective measures to keep Will from being weathered and eroded by nature. An overhead tarp, perhaps. Protective sealant to preserve his shine and to avoid stains. He considered adopting a pet, merely for the man to have some company while Hannibal slept.

He would have to get used to a further limited sleep schedule, possibly using gaps between patients to rest in his office.

His backyard would need to be rearranged. Possibly a suncouch and plush chairs for them to lounge in the evenings. A cabinet with necessities, such as plush throws and pillows. More lighting, perhaps he would install a firepit. Lubricant.

Will would be allowed free range of the house, of course, but quiet evenings in the garden- where he could paint or sketch the man to his fill seemed like a perfect evening.

Hannibal considered a wardrobe and measurements for his companion but that may arouse questions, if his statue were to suddenly change outfits a day at a time. He did have the occasional guest on his property. He also liked the view, if he were being honest with himself.

He set about his task with impunity in his free time, wanting to have the garden ready as a pleasant surprise.

Will did not disappoint in his reaction, looking at the garden with its new furniture and arrangement. The dog and firepit would have to wait but nothing else was particularly hard to have shipped and arranged about within the week. He had merely hid the ever growing amount of furniture in his study until he had the full set to place to his liking.

Will had laughed and moved about, crawling over the couch and lounging in the chairs. He would playfully twitch and move about while Hannibal attempted to sketch him in the lowlighting, too grateful of his limited time of movement to sit still.

Hannibal had begun to notice the beginnings of bags under his eyes, a paler set to his skin, with the lack of sleep. He took to applying a light sheen of makeup, doing his best to maintain an elegant appearance, but refused to change his new routine to account for more rest.

The lack of sleep made him slightly more careless, in the meantime. He forgot about the dinner party he had planned in advance when he first purchased Will, wanting to show off his new purchase and expansive wealth to the jealous upper-crust of Baltimore society.

The evening of the party was fast approaching, too late to cancel gracefully, so he needed to come up with a sufficient plan. First thing on his list, of course, was meat. His stores were wearing thin with his lack of hunting, distracted by the beauty of Will in the evenings to scour through his rolodex for an appropriate swine. He plucked a card and set out, determined to have the body back to his home by nightfall. Perhaps Will would be willing to aid in preparing the meat.

George Harris would be an unmissed man with an unmissed personality though his thighs would make a particularly juicy dish baked in clay.

Will woke when Hannibal already had the legs displayed on his kitchen counter, sliding door open from Will to come inside and peruse at his leisure. Will did approach, more hesitant than Hannibal expected. The man was all curiosity, determined to understand anything and anyone with an easy natural grace.

“Are those…. Human legs? Is cannibalism a norm in this time period?,” the man asked, hesitance coloring his tone.

“Common? Not particularly, no. I am confident in my hiding abilities, however, and I prefer a fresh cut I’ve hunted myself. I am very particular about what I put in my body.”

Will nodded slowly.

“So you… murdered him.”

“I did, yes. Does that bother you?”

Will glanced away, shoulders twitching.

“Seems like the kind of thing that gets you turned into a statue.”

Hannibal paused and glanced. That was the most Will had revealed about his current status as a marble art piece than he had ever before.

“When I first gazed upon you, in that museum, this  _ pig  _ called you gaudy. He said you were a shoddy piece of work better to be sold on a streetside than anyone to pay you any mind.”

Will shot him a sharp look.

“I don’t need you to defend me!”

Hannibal smiled.

“And this man did not need to be rude. You are mine, Will, to care for. I will not allow for disrespect.”

Will just hummed back at him, annoyance coloring the sound. Hannibal let his emile widen before he cleared his throat.

“Tomorrow, I will have guests here in the evening. A dinner party of sorts. I am not sure… how to hide our predicament.”

Will shrugged and shuffled his feet.

“I could hide? Maybe in your study?”

Hannibal shook his head.

“People will be moving about the space, at least downstairs. You could stay in my bedroom though you wouldn’t be able to move around much. People would hear.”

He sent an apologetic look over his shoulder.

“We could pretend I’m a guest? I’d need some clothes.”

Hannibal felt his hand twitch and his jaw tighten.

“Absolutely not. It would raise questions. Who you are, what you do for a living, how we know each other.”

If Will was single and available, if there was a way to contact him for dates. Absolutely not.

“Alright, alright,” Will huffed. “Your bedroom it is then.”

Hannibal nodded, satisfied.

The next evening approached. Hannibal kept dark curtains draped over the sliding door to the backyard and sequestered Will away in his bedroom when his sous chefs left the kitchen to begin dining room preparations. He savored the look of Will lounging on his bed, surrounded in plush blankets and silk sheets. He carefully arranged entertainment of various forms around the bed, such as books and things for Will to take apart and put back together. They had discovered he was a bit of a handy-man over the course of a few nights, observing Will pulling things apart to figure out their innards before putting them back together perfectly. He covered his anxiety for Will, the feeling of a lack of proper entertainment eating away at him and making his shoulders tense, as he left him in the bedroom. He set the radio to play soft classical for the man so he wasn’t subjected to hours of bored silence alone in this room, stuck sitting on a bed when all Hannibal knew he wanted to do was snoop through drawers and the closets.

Hannibal made his way downstairs and started greeting guests. Alana was the first to the door, as usual, closely followed by Ms. Komada then Jack and so on. Soon the party was filled, loud and merry and seated around his table. All Hannibal wanted was a quick night but could not bring himself to rush through dinner. The meal was still his art, the dining room his theater. He could not disappoint his audience.

As he sat at the head of the table, beginning to introduce his dish to his eager crowd, a muffled thump occurred upstairs. He did not allow himself to pause in his speech.

Another soft thump.

He saw Alana glance towards his stairs, curiously. He needed to stop her before--

“Is someone upstairs, Hannibal?”

\--she asked questions.

“Of course not, Alana. I assume I left a window open and some things may have fallen over from the breeze.”

She quirked an eyebrow and sipped her beer, disbelief clear on her face.

A final thump then back to glorious silence. He would have to have a word with Will later. The man was testing him. Hannibal let the thought of spanking run through his mind before he quickly tossed it to the side. He could not afford distraction.

He cleared his throat and continued his meal’s introduction, serving the thighs to his hungry guests, and proceeded to wait for dinner to end.

He waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Two hours had passed and he was beginning to get a light cramp to his jaw from clenching his teeth. These people would not leave. He was starting to feel that anxious tightening in his shoulders return.

He cleared his throat, calling attention, and carefully arranged his face into a more contrite expression.

“I’m sorry, everyone, but I do have an early start to the day ahead of me. I know it is bad form to end a party early. I ask you forgive me.”

He gestured to the entrance to the dining room, rising from his seat to lead people to the door.

A soft thump occurred from overhead. His jaw twitched as Alana shot him a sharp look. He began ushering people in earnest.

Alana was the last to leave, lingering confused in his doorway. He usually allowed her to stay awhile longer, drinking casually- perhaps some friendly flirting and banter. Not tonight. Probably not any night ever again.

She turned to him hesitantly as they stopped in front of her car. He opened her door for her, ever the gentleman. She opened her mouth to say something when he saw her gaze sharpen.

“Hannibal it seems like you’ve left your bedroom light on,” she pointed. She studied his face a little more closely. “That doesn’t seem like you. Have you been sleeping well?”

“I have,” he lied. He hadn’t been sleeping much at all.

She hesitated.

“I can stay, if you need me too,” a concerned hand on his arm. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, Alana, I’m fine. Please,” he gestured to her car door. “Do not let me keep you.”

“Hannibal, I feel like I should--”

“Alana. Please. Go home and rest. I will call tomorrow.”

She frowned at the borderline rude tone he threw her way but he couldn’t find himself to care. He was about five seconds from tossing her in her car.

“Alright. Have a good night, Hannibal. We’ll speak tomorrow.”

“Good night.”

He shut the door behind her with finality and watched as she slowly pulled out of his driveway. Satisfied she was gone, he turned heel and hurried into the house. He had a man to berate.

He made his way upstairs, quiet with anxious irritation shifting under his skin, to open his door and find--

Well.

His anger melted away to be replaced with something much more intense and carnal.

Will had found his way into his bedside drawer. Books scattered the floor where they had been kicked from the bed by restless feet. That explained the noises.

Will was staring at him with horrified embarrassed eyes, once hand wrapped around his penis and the other working himself open.

“I was bored,” Will blurted out, as though it would explain everything. He had obviously been at this for awhile. Centuries of pent up energy and need made up for any form of refractory period he had, judging from the mess across his form and bed.

Hannibal stepped into the room and shut the door behind him, prowling forward. He had never been so grateful for the mirror above his bed than in this moment.

“Do continue,” he stated as he crawled onto the bed and toward Will. He watched as Will’s Adam's apple bobbed under his skin.

He nudged Will forward from his sprawl, settling behind him and resting the man against his chest. He let his hands roam the expanse of Will’s chest, brushing over pert nipples. Will started back up his frantic motions, keening softly and biting his lip. His head was thrown back against Hannibal’s shoulder, exposing his neck. Hannibal glanced up into the mirror, drinking in the sight of him, before turning his attention to biting where the inviting flesh in front of his face waited.

Will choked out a cry and tightened his hold, long fingers squeezing hard against himself.

Hannibal let his hand drift down to cover Will’s.

“Show me what you like,” he whispered in his ear, softly biting the tip with his sharp teeth. Will hesitantly let go of his length, suddenly shy, before repositioning his grip over hannibal’s hand instead. He guided Hannibal’s hand and grip, responding vocally when Hannibal would add a twist or a flick he particularly liked.

Soon he removed his hand entirely, bucking up into Hannibal’s hand and moaning loudly in his ear. He was gorgeous.

Hannibal eagerly ate the sight in front of him, glancing between Will’s body and the mirror, memorizing every angle to draw later.

The most glorious sight was Will coming in his fist, back arching off of Hannibal’s chest and head digging into his shoulder. He came with a broken keen, breathy and full, before panting and relaxing on top of Hannibal’s form.

Hannibal glanced at the clock resting on his bedside table. They had a few more hours yet.

He dislodged Will from himself, turning the man over onto his stomach and raising his hips in the air. The man had done a good job of opening himself up, loose enough to sink into but still tight enough for it to feel like heaven. Hannibal pressed his fingers in, just to test the feel, and Will cried out at the overstimulation.

Hannibal groaned.

He reached down and quickly unbuttoned and unzipped his slacks, pushing the material down his hips to free his erection. He grabbed the lube and gave himself a decent slathering before lining himself up and slowly pushing into the warm body beneath him.

He sighed in ecstasy, eyes dropping closed with the feeling. Will was tight and warm and wet beneath him, sucking him in deeper with each thrust. It felt as close to God as Hannibal could ever come.

He adjusted himself, letting his hands fall against Will’s hips and gripping tight. He wanted to bruise. He wanted those bruises to stay on Will, even as a statue in his yard. Only for him to see. To admire and worship.

He picked up his pace, fucking into Will’s body in earnest. Hannibal dislodged a hand from Will’s hip to raise it high and bring it down to slap against flesh. Will gave a sharp cry, tightening even further.

He did it again.

And again.

Until Will’s backside was red and hot under his stroking hand.

Hannibal lunged forward, as deep as he could go, burying himself inside. He wondered what it would be like to be stuck like this, Will immobile and marble with Hannibal’s cock shoved up his ass. When he came too Hannibal would still be inside, ready to fuck into him all over again.

With that thought, Hannibal came deep inside with a shout. He’d have to buy Will a plug to hold himself inside. To admire as he gazed and observed him in the garden, surrounded by flowers and the sweet smell of the roses.

He took a moment to breath before pulling out slowly. He noticed Will breathing hard, hand working fast and hard underneath him. He seemed close.

He knocked his hand away and widened the expanse between will’s legs so could slip underneath. He let his lips close around his cock and let the man fuck into his mouth in earnest, letting him tug his hair sharply, until coming down Hannibal’s throat with a breathy moan.

Hannibal swallowed.

He got up and bundled Will in his arms, helping the man stagger into the bathroom to the shower. He cleaned them both up and toweled them off afterward. He stripped the bed for the wash, silently mourning the smell of Will on his sheets, and left the laundry in the washer downstairs.

From there, they lounged in the garden, dozing, until it was time for Will to step back on his pedestal and wait until nightfall. He helped Will rearrange his veil and took the time for one last longing tough against his skin before Will was once again stone.

Hannibal couldn’t wait until evening struck once again.


End file.
